Spark for Hire

I get up in the eveningand I ain't got nothing to sayI come home in the morningI go to bed feeling the same wayI ain't nothing but tiredMan I'm just tired and bored with myselfHey there baby, I could use just a little help

Yes, I remember the very first fire I started. It was such a long long time ago...

You can't start a fireYou can't start a fire without a sparkThis gun's for hireeven if we're just dancing in the dark

"Mom! C'm on Mom! I'm hungry. Let me try". All I wanted was a roasted hot dog. I had it all planned out in my four year old mind. It was the dead of winter and there was a fire crackling in our kitchen's woodburner. I had the hot dog, and a piece of Lincoln Log for a stick. Mum was definite in her no's. Made that morsel of chard meat all the more desirable. "You will burn the house down", was her finale answer. I just waited patiently until she bundled up in her winter clothes to do the out side chores and get the mail. That was an easy if not frightening fire to dispose of. I just threw the flaming toy into the round hole in the stove and covered the evidence with the heavy metal lid. And continued to whine with hunger until dinner.

Message keeps getting clearerradio's on and I'm moving 'round the placeI check my look in the mirrorI wanna change my clothes, my hair, my faceMan I ain't getting nowhereI'm just living in a dump like thisThere's something happening somewherebaby I just know that there is

The next fire was a little larger, I think, although I never really seen it. There we were, in our ninth grade home economics class. It was the last class of the day, right before the Christmas holidays were to begin. My kitchen partners and I had decided to make home made caramel as our final big project. Sherry, Elaine, Mark and I had never made it before, but Sherry had seen it done, so she was in charge. I remember her voice, "Stir! Stir! Stir!", like a rowing cadence she urged. She stressed the importance of stirring the concoction so not to scorch the bottom. We had taken turns stirring for an hour and it still wasn't candy yet. We had no idea it would take us so long to make caramel. As the finale bell of the day approached we formulated our plan. Once the bell rang, my partners would all leave the class to gather their coats and books before boarding the busses. Our lockers were on the third floor. Smiley Nelsons home ec class being on the second floor, I would stay and stir, while the others bring me my things so our caramel could continue to cook the additional fifteen minutes before the busses departed. The bell sounded, and all the students flooded out of the classroom, except myself. Smiley Nelson, our teacher, always snuck out early to have a smoke in the teachers lounge and talk with her husband the guidance counselor, before coming back to lock up her empty classroom. Elaine and Sherry returned with my coat and books, but Mark, who lived in town, and was to stay until the caramel thickened into candy, had ditched us. "Mark said he has curling after school, but he would get Smiley to finish." When we peeked out the classroom door, there was Smiley headed in our direction. I left that wooden spoon right were it was in that bubbling hot syrup and dashed off to my waiting bus without a backwards glance. When we came back from break, the stove was no longer there and the counter next to it had dark brown marks in the disfigured laminate. Smiley, would not explain, for fear of self inditement, what had happened.

You can't start a fireyou can't start a fire without a sparkThis gun's for hireeven if we're just dancing in the dark

Granted, at every kegger there is a bonfire, it's a given. And at Clemenston, we had some doozies. They lasted all night. If someone didn't get lost, or fall in the rapids, it was considered tame. We had partied by the river until the cops showed up, then about twenty or so cars of partyers moved it to the bait store. Another bonfire was light outside, but it was getting cold, that Friday before deer hunting season, so the party was moved inside. I was enjoying *Gonzo's impression of Billy Idol using a pool stick as microphone, and was sad when him and **Fry had to leave at around 3:am to be ready for hunting. Watching the two of them climb into Fry's old low ridding thunderbird, I came up with an idea. Before their car turned on to the highway, I ran out the store and waved them back to where I was standing. Unable to make a u-turn, they simply backed all the way up to where I was. I just happened to be standing near the earlier bon fire, that I assumed to be out, had blazed. "Hey Gonzo! I bet you my "Rebel Yell" tape you don't get a deer at sun up", was my parting wager.
I never did rub it into Gonzo that his opening hunt was unsuccessful. Seams as he and Fry had driven straight to their hunting destination, to catch a few hours of sleep before sun rise and opening hunting. Unfortunately it was not day break that woke them from their drunken slumber, but the sound of shots from their own trunk. Having driven over the embers of the bonfire had caused the underneath of their thunderbird to catch fire, discharging the rifle shells stored in their trunk.


You sit around getting olderthere's a joke here somewhere and it's on meI'll shake this world off my shoulderscome on baby this laugh's on me

The fire in Carrie's basement apartment was by far the scaryest yet for me. We had been up late the night before trying to impress some baser guys. Carrie, being an excellent cook, and me, who literally couldn't even boil water at that time. Carrie had made Asian food. Chow mein and homemade egg rolls. The food had been much better than our company. I just remember the next morning, walking past Carrie, who had just light a cigarette and plunked down on the sofa in front of her soap opera. I went into the kitchen and turned the gas on under her tea kettle. It was when we seen the reflection of flames shooting out of her oil filled wok, on the T.V. screen, that I realized I had lit the burner under her wok instead of the tea kettle by mistake. Squealing, we both rushed into the tiny u shaped kitchen and started pulling open cupboard doors to find either a lid big enough to cover the wok, or some flour to put out the flaming oil. We found neither in our hast. So I grabbed up the wok and planned on running it outside. As I picked it up, and swung around holding it as far away from my body as possible, I set the cotton dish towels and their holders on fire that hung on the cabinet doors. Then the paper towel holder. And the message pad. And the spice wreath. The whole kitchen was fast becoming engulfed. I knew I would not make it out the door and up the stairs, so when I started heading for the sink. Carrie hit me with a phone book to keep me from running water into it and splattering more fire. I had no plans on doing anything so stupid tho, I simply poured the flaming oil down the drain. Thank God for metal pipes. And sugar, that will work almost as good as flour, but leaves an odd smell. Carrie had to light a new cigarette after that, as we were still shaking as we went back to watch "Days of Our Lives."

Stay on the streets of this townand they'll be carving you up alrightThey say you gotta stay hungryhey baby I'm just about starving tonightI'm dying for some actionI'm sick of sitting 'round here trying to write this bookI need a love reactioncome on now baby gimme just one look

That implosion in the microwave that happened in class down in Austin, well there just should of been something in the syllabus about fires. And I swear that Iranian dude had more to do with it than he can admit.

You can't start a fire sitting round crying over a broken heartThis gun's for hireEven if we'rejust dancing in the darkYou can't start a fire worrying bout your little world falling apartThis guns for hireEven if we're just dancing in the darkEven if we are just dancing in the darkEven if we are just dancing in the darkEven if we are just dancing in the darkHey Baby

Sure, create a dessert called a flaming monastery and some fire is bound to happen.
Red wine reduction sauce, something that needs to boil down to almost nothing and includes alcohal, is just begging for trouble.
But put a grill next to a stack of terry cloth potholders, and come one. Yes the alarms will go off and all the doors will lock and the code orange will blare across the loudspeakers. I know I have a leeway of fifteen seconds to dump the flaming material into the industrial sized trash and contain it in the sensor free freeze. Not that I have, mind you.
***It was dark and the middle of the night as I danced when my house burned to the ground. Hey Baby.


*Gonzo so named after numous hockey accidents that left his nose headed in many diferent directions all at the same time.
**Fry so burned out by partying he was known as just plain Fry.
***I was three hours away. I have witnesses. Ask Clarence.